


Broken Wing

by WednesdayTheWriter



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Crowley, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Injury, Injury Recovery, Mild Gore, Other, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wing Injury, not much though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayTheWriter/pseuds/WednesdayTheWriter
Summary: Years of being left un-preened leaves Crowley’s wing hurt and broken. Aziraphale is there to take care of him, and heal both physical and mental scars.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Broken Wing

**Author's Note:**

> There is a bit of gore/description of Crowley’s broken wing. If that bothers you, you may want to skip this one!

It had been a long, long time since Crowley had felt real pain. Sure, he’d felt human pain before. A stubbed toe, or a sprained wrist. But not this kind of pain. He hadn’t felt this kind since he’d saved Aziraphale’s books in that church so long ago. And yet here he was, awkwardly cradling his wing and gritting his teeth to stop the tears of pain that were rapidly forming in his eyes.

He wasn’t sure why his wing had suddenly started hurting so much more than it had been in the past. As any other demon would, he’d stopped caring for his wings and preening them a long time ago. It was most likely simply the years of buildup and lack of care, but he wasn’t sure- something felt like it was broken. The pain had started a couple of hours ago, and hadn’t stopped since. It was his right wing, sending jolts of pain down his back. 

He sighed. There was only one thing he could do, and that was to call Aziraphale. But... his hand hovered over his phone as he sat on his bed, unsure of himself. He ran his fingers through his hair instead, trying to calm himself down. What should he even say? He forced himself to pick up the phone, and quickly dialed Aziraphale’s number before he could change his mind. 

“Hello?” said a familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” said Crowley, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Hello, Crowley! Is everything alright?”

“...Yeah. Do you, by any chance, know how to fix a wing? Like, if it’s broken or something?”

“What, on a bird?”

“No!” Crowley said. If he’d had the energy, he would have rolled his eyes. “Like... like our wings.” 

“Oh! Er... I’m not quite sure, but I suppose a lot of rest and preening. Why?”

“Oh. No reason.”

Crowley could practically hear the sound of what he’d just said clicking in Aziraphale’s brain.

“...I’ll be over in just a moment.”

Before Crowley could protest, Aziraphale had hung up. He put his head in his hands, sighing. Why did Aziraphale have to be so caring all the time? It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, it was that he shouldn’t appreciate it. That wasn’t fair. They were Crowley’s wings, after all. 

A knock echoed through Crowley’s flat, and he stumbled out of bed, carefully walking over to the door and ignoring the pain that was shooting up his back every few seconds. He put his hand on the handle, but Aziraphale was already opening it. Before Crowley could say anything, the angel was inside.

“Oh, Crowley, your poor wing...” said Aziraphale, looking at the deformed mass of feathers Crowley was trying to hide. 

“It’s not that bad, really,” said Crowley quickly. “Looks a lot worse than it is.”

“Come here, I’ll take a look at it,” said Aziraphale, gesturing to the couch. Crowley sat down, facing the back of the couch, and Aziraphale sat on the ottoman behind him, his legs crossed. He reached out and touched Crowley’s right wing, and Crowley let out a small yelp of pain. 

“Oh dear...” said Aziraphale. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Crowley. “I mean, it hasn’t been preened in a while, but I don’t know how it got broken.”

“It may be from the buildup of feathers,” said Aziraphale. “If they get heavy enough, they can cause it to break, and... oh, Crowley...” 

“‘S fine. Not that bad,” said Crowley.

“But it is that bad,” said Aziraphale, examining the wing slightly closer. “It’s broken.”

Crowley sighed. “I suppose you aren’t going to leave it alone now that I’ve told you,” he mumbled.

“Of course not. May I?” Aziraphale hovered his hand over Crowley’s wing, waiting for his consent to try to heal it.

“Knock yourself out.”

“Alright.” 

Aziraphale gently ran his fingers through Crowley’s feathers, and a few excess feathers fell off and onto the floor. He slowly began preening Crowley’s wing, trying to avoid hurting him further. 

“Does that feel alright?” asked Aziraphale. 

“Yeah, ‘s alright,” said Crowley, wincing slightly as Aziraphale touched a tender spot.

“Alright. After I’m done, you should rest it for a while to let it heal.”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale worked in silence for a few minutes.

“I need to try and get some of the feathers around the broken area, alright? This might hurt a bit more,” said Aziraphale.

“Okay.”

Aziraphale gently touched the top of Crowley’s wing, and a couple of feathers fell out.

“OUCH!” yelped Crowley, wincing in pain. 

“I’m sorry...” said Aziraphale. “It’s looking a bit better, though.”

“O- OW- okay,” said Crowley as Aziraphale ran his fingers through his wing again.

“I need to lift it a bit, alright? Just to get a better angle.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s wing in his hands, but as soon as he shifted it, Crowley cried out in pain.

“OUCH! OW- GH... ow... nnnh... owww...” 

“Shhh, it’s alright,” said Aziraphale, gently stroking Crowley’s wing. “There you go.”

“S...sorry,” said Crowley, his ears turning slightly pink.

“It’s alright, dear boy. Please try to hold still, I’m almost done.” 

“Ow- alright...”

Aziraphale was quiet for the next few minutes as he worked, gently preening Crowley’s wing and running his fingers through the demon’s feathers. He’d pause when he heard the occasional “ouch!” from Crowley, giving the pain a moment to subside before he continued.

“There you go. Now, I’m going to do the other one as well, to keep it from having the same problem,” said Aziraphale. Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale began gently preening Crowley’s left wing. Years of buildup and pain that Crowley hadn’t even realized was there was lifted off of his shoulders as Aziraphale worked, and he let out a sigh of relief. 

“There,” said Aziraphale softly. “Better?”

“Yeah.” And it was. His wings, despite thousands of years of not being taken care of, looked good as new, other than the slight bend in his right wing where it was still broken.

“I think rest would be a good idea as well,” said Aziraphale. Crowley nodded silently. Aziraphale put a gentle hand on Crowley’s back, rubbing his thumb back and forth comfortingly. “Why hadn’t you preened?” he asked.

“I dunno. Demons don’t usually do that,” said Crowley. 

“Well, they certainly don’t seem to end up with broken wings, do they?” asked Aziraphale.

“Well... I suppose it depends on the demon. Some probably just grin and bear it, or rather, scowl and bear it. Some probably have someone to do it for them. Some...” Crowley shuddered. “Some get rid of their wings.”

“What?! How?” 

“They, er... well, it’s rather gruesome, but they cut them off.”

A small gasp escaped Aziraphale’s lips. “They do?!”

“Yeah...” Crowley stared at the floor. “I saw one of them do it once. It was...” his voice cracked slightly as he continued, “it was awful. They had fallen more recently, and they’d just... given up. On everything. They were such a nice angel, too...” Crowley said quietly.

“Oh, that’s awful...” said Aziraphale. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean? Shouldn’t you be sorry for them?”

“I am, but... you shouldn’t have had to see that. Especially someone you knew... that’s just horrible.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Crowley stared at the floor, the screams of the demon who’d cut off their wings echoing in his mind.

“Are you alright?” asked Aziraphale as Crowley took a shaky breath.

“...Yeah.”

Aziraphale sighed. He knew the answer was no. He gently rubbed Crowley’s back, his other hand on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, Angel,” said Crowley quietly.

“Of course, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, giving Crowley’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Is your wing doing better?”

“Yeah, thanks. It feels a lot better now.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments, Aziraphale gently running his hand along Crowley’s back in circles. 

“Did you ever consider it? Cutting them off, I mean. If that’s too personal, you don’t have to answer, of course.”

Crowley sighed. “Yeah.”

“Oh...”

“Pretty soon after I fell. Had the knife and everything. I chickened out,” said Crowley, laughing sadly.

“I’m glad you did,” said Aziraphale. “Your wings are beautiful.”

“Ngk...” Crowley was glad Aziraphale couldn’t see his cheeks turn slightly pink at the comment. Aziraphale gave his shoulder another squeeze.

“Can you turn around for a moment? There, yes, look at me.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened slightly as he saw Crowley’s eyes, which were damp with tears. “Dear boy, why are you crying?”

“I’m not-“ Crowley’s hand shot up to his face and he hastily wiped his eyes, but it didn’t do much. More tears were already making their way into his eyes.

“Does it still hurt? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine...” said Crowley.

“Surely you aren’t fine. You’re crying,” said Aziraphale.

“S...sorry...”

“Oh, no, don’t apologize. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Come here,” said Aziraphale, opening his arms. Crowley moved forward and slowly sunk into his embrace, burying his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Sorry...” he said again.

“No, no. It’s quite alright. These things happen,” said Aziraphale, gently rubbing Crowley’s back again as he held him tightly against his chest.

“I just... this shouldn’t be your problem,” said Crowley, his voice shaking.

“Oh, Crowley, there’s no shame in asking for help,” said Aziraphale. “Goodness knows I’ve asked you for help plenty of times over the years.”

Crowley sniffled as he lifted his head up to look at Aziraphale. “Thank you,” he said. Aziraphale smiled and lifted his hand up to stroke Crowley’s hair.

“Of course, dear boy. Of course.” Aziraphale leaned forward and gently placed his forehead against Crowley’s. Crowley closed his eyes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. They sat there for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, Aziraphale sat up, smiling at Crowley. 

“Are you feeling a bit better now?” he asked. Crowley nodded.

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Now, you need to rest, alright? Your wing won’t heal properly if you don’t.”

“Okay,” said Crowley. He made no effort to actually do so, however. Aziraphale moved over and sat on the couch, pulling Crowley over with him. Crowley looked at Aziraphale for a moment, silently asking permission to sleep. Aziraphale gently took Crowley’s head in his hands and guided it to his shoulder. Crowley curled up, leaning up against Aziraphale. He yawned, closing his eyes. 

“Night, Angel,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, dear Crowley.”


End file.
